


Death Doesn't Discriminate

by KiwiKat_Writes



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander just, Burr Is Guilty, Gen, Short not sweet, and burr is sad, big sad, dies, i wrote this like a year ago so plS DONT JUDGE-, okay idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiKat_Writes/pseuds/KiwiKat_Writes
Summary: Here this is my own take on Hamilton's deathI wrote this like a year ago so please be niceI take constructive criticism, so if you think I can make things better please don't be afraid to comment them! I love your feedback!
Relationships: Aaron Burr & Alexander Hamilton
Kudos: 11





	Death Doesn't Discriminate

His hand lifted into the air, the pistol pointing straight up as the bullet sped towards him. Gasps from the onlookers punctuated his mind, his focus on the small bullet leaping closer to him every millisecond. 

“He aimed his pistol at the sky!” 

“He surrendered!” Then one voice cut above them all. 

“WAIT!”  _ Burr… _

Then, pain. He felt the impact of his head against the road, the dusty ground cool against his cheek. Heard footsteps against the ground, felt his head lifted from the ground as someone picked his head up. A pain blossomed from his chest as he felt a soft thing under his head, and, opening his eyes, saw a blurry shape shifting like his eyes were underwater. Then, a drop of something fell on his forehead. Water? Was it raining? Suddenly, his eyes seemed to focus like a camera lens, zooming in on the figure dominating his vision. ‘Burr…’ Aaron Burr was holding him, cradling his head. 

As he glanced around, his eyes fell on two gleaming shapes. One close, one farther away. As his eyesight adjusted to seeing farther distances, he recognized the shape. Pistols, with their polished brass barrels glinting through the dust that hovered in the air. Another drop of liquid hit his face, and he finally realized. Aaron Burr, the most secluded, most mysterious, most wonderfully stoic person he had ever met, was crying. With some difficulty, he raised his hand and tried to speak. A whisper slipped out instead of his normal boisterous volume. He felt blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. Aaron leant down closer, almost touching his ear to his lips, and listened closer. He repeated what he said with a cough. 

“P-pardon me, are you A-aaron Burr, sir?”

Then, he went limp. His body refused to work. He was aware of someone asking for a medic. Darkness swept over his vision, and he finally let go.

Aaron held his body close as he felt the heartbeat wavering. 

“Medic! Where is the medic?” Aaron shouted as the man below him fell limp. He saw a man trying to push through the crowd to get to them. With an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Aaron felt the man below him drag one shaky breath in. With a gasp, the air was released. He waited. The man didn’t pull another breath in. The heartbeat, the flame of the Revolution, was gone. Burr lowered his head to the point where his forehead almost touched the man’s. 

‘...what will America be without you, Hamilton?’

**Author's Note:**

> Here this is my own take on Hamilton's death  
> I wrote this like a year ago so please be nice  
> I take constructive criticism, so if you think I can make things better please don't be afraid to comment them! I love your feedback!


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